


Fuck a Duck

by finite_parker



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: (but i'm definitely not sorry), Alternate title: "Reasons why I'm going to hell", Choose Your Own Adventure, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 02:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15786678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finite_parker/pseuds/finite_parker
Summary: Let Duck fuck !





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Choose your own adventure? In _my_ smut fic? It's more likely than you think.
> 
> This is probably wildly out of character but it was written in two days with minimal editing under sleep deprivation and iced coffee so, like... take that as you will.

“You need a good fuck, Duck Newton.” Beacon’s nasally voice breaks the peaceful early morning quiet of Duck’s kitchen.

“Oh my _god_.” Duck groans and buries his face in his hands. “We are _not_ having this discussion.”

Beacon continues anyway, “Really Duck Newton, you’re useless like this, all antsy and wound up. You need to, ahhhh, ‘take one for the team’ as it were.”

“I’m gonna put tape over your mouth if you don’t stop talking this goddamn instant,” Duck says, head still buried in his hands. Beacon wisely chooses to shut up, which Duck considers a miracle. But… he’d still hit a nerve. Duck hasn’t been with anyone since this whole monster hunting, life changing revelation thing has started. It’s not real easy to find hookups when you work a full time job and are also gearing up for the next possible apocalypse. And well… maybe he does need a good fuck. That does _not_ mean he likes hearing about it from his goddamn sword though.

Duck pushes himself to stand from his table where he’d been enjoying a cup of tea before Beacon had called him out so thoroughly. “I’m heading to work,” he says, and, because he still feels a little guilty about keeping Beacon locked away all these years, he asks, “Do you want to stay on the table or in the cabinet?”

“Oh, am I allowed to talk now?” Beacon asks peevishly, and Duck rolls his eyes.

“Keep that up and you’re gonna find your way under the bathroom sink.”

“...Table then,” he says sulkily.

“Alright, then I’ll see ya later.”

Just as he reaches the front door though, Beacon calls out, “Duck Newton!”

Duck pauses, hand on the knob, and responds reluctantly, “Yeah?”

“You know that I am right. You need to do something about the ‘situation’.”

Duck turns the knob and says firmly, “Good _bye_ , Beacon.”

 

* * *

 

_If you'd like to see Ned fuck Duck, go to Chapter 2._

_If you'd like to see Agent Stern fuck Duck, go to Chapter 3._

_If you'd like to see Barclay fuck Duck, go to Chapter 4._

_If you'd like to see Beacon fuck Duck, go to Chapter 5._

_If you'd like to see Duck get fucked by everyone, go to Chapter 7, which is all of the chapters but slightly rewritten to fit together._


	2. Ned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ned "Big Dick" Chicane

 

Duck steps out of the Ranger Jeep and makes his way to the front of The Cryptonomica. He holds the door open for a few tourists who are leaving and nods at them when thank him cheerily. They both, he notices, have gift bags. Ned’s business certainly has ticked up since the start of this whole thing. Ned’s friend/associate Kirby is sitting at the front desk and cashier area so Duck heads towards him. “There was a call about a wild animal?”

Kirby doesn’t even look up from his laptop., just waves vaguely behind him and says, “Ned’s in the back.” Duck rolls his eyes but heads on through the “employees only” door.

“Ned? You back here?” he calls, and gets an answering confirmation from further back in the room, so Duck makes his way back. He idly wonders what the actual criteria of being a hoarder is, as he passes the case Beacon had once been held in, and finds Ned sitting at an ancient desk.

“Ah Duck! What a wonderful surprise to see you here today!” Ned exclaims, standing up and stepping around the desk  to greet him with his customary clap on the arm. Uncustomarily, he doesn’t move it away

“You too Ned,” Duck says, amused. “Somebody called the Ranger station about a wild animal...?”

“Yes well one of our patrons was startled by a raccoon that’d jumped on their car. Called y’all to be safe but it scurried off when we banged a couple trash lids around and it hasn’t turned back up again.” Ned had started massaging his shoulder halfway through his explanation and Duck looks down at his hand confused, then back up at Ned with a raised eyebrow.

“And that’s  _ all _ you called us for?” Duck asks incredulously. Ned grins unabashed and moves his hand up to Duck’s neck. Duck shivers but doesn’t step away.

“The truth is yes but now that you’re here, and there’s no wild animal for you to be catching, I can think of some  _ other _ way to pass the time.” Ned’s fingers run through the short hairs on the back of Duck’s neck and his lips part involuntarily.

“I’m on duty,” Duck gets the mind to protest but Ned waves him off.

“And you’ve got a radio on you if there’s an emergency, now come on, you deserve a break.”

Duck chews on his lip and considers it. He and Ned have fucked on and off since their friendship began and Duck knows that Ned knows how to give it to him right... which is exactly what Duck needs right now. “Alright then,” he agrees, “but it’s gotta be quick.”

“Excellent!” Ned exclaims then he switches places with Duck and turns him around in one smooth move so he’s bending over the desk.

“I thought we’d be heading to your room,” Duck points out because Ned  _ does _ have a bedroom attached to The Cryptonomica.

“You said quick,” Ned points out, “and this is the quickest.” But the fact that he then pulls lube and a condom out of s desk drawer implies he’d been planning this. Duck actually doesn’t mind that, and he lets Ned tug down his pants, then tightens his grip on the edge of the desk as Ned runs a cold lubed finger down his crack.

“Jesus Ned,” he hisses. “Warn a guy next time would ya?”

“Sorry,” Ned says, sounding not in the least apologetic. He does pump Duck’s cock a few times which is enough of an apology for Duck and he groans.

“Shhh,” Ned hushes him. “Hear that?” Duck does faintly, the tell tale jingle of the front door bell, then the low murmur of people from the front room. “You have to be quiet or else everyone out there is gonna know how much a slut you are.” He punctuates this statement with the first intrusion of his finger and Duck has to bite back a moan.

“Yeah,” Ned continues, speaking low into Duck’s ear as he works into him. “Ranger Duck Newton, about as respectable as can be in this town. What would people think if they knew you were begging for it in my back room?”

Duck bucks his hips, trying to get Ned to  _ hurry on with it already _ , but Ned doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he continues to move his hand slow enough that Duck has to keep himself from cursing.

“But maybe you want that,” Ned continues, giving a few strokes of Duck’s cock which is fully hard now. Duck bites hard on his lip to keep from morning. “Oh yeah you do don’t you? You want someone to come in and find us.” He puts in another finger and Duck’s grip on the desk tightens but he doesn’t make a noise. “The doors not even locked,” Ned says, almost conversationally. “Kirby could walk back here any time, looking for the new brochures we printed. Or a tourist could get lost looking for the bathroom. Then what would they see?” Ned finds his prostate with one quick thrust and Duck makes a strangled noise, dropping his head to try and cut it off.

“You’ve got to be quiet,” Ned chides. “This is  _ my _ place of business, maybe  _ I _ don’t want to be caught fucking a slut like you here.” Duck can’t help it, he bucks and lets out a small moan at that. Immediately, Ned’s free hand is clapped over his mouth. “I don’t have a proper gag so this will have to do. I know a slut like you needs to be kept busy at both ends.” He moves his hand so it’s no longer clamped over Ducks mouth and a few fingers slip inside. Duck immediately starts sucking on them. “There now isn’t that better? But I know you wish that was my dick.” Duck can’t exactly reply but he sucks harder on the fingers in agreement. “Well you’re going to get it but you can only have it in one place,” Ned says, then he purposefully wriggles his fingers in Duck’s ass, then the ones in his mouth. “What’s your choice?”

Duck whines but quietly and thrusts his hips, hoping Ned gets the hint to just  _ fuck him _ already. He must because the next thing Duck knows, Ned’s fingers are gone and Ned’s lubed up cock is at his entrance.

Duck can’t focus on sucking Ned’s fingers as he fucks him. He just hangs onto the desk and holds on as best he can, Ned moves his hand back to clasping over Duck’s mouth now that he’s got almost no control over the sounds he’s making. He pants around Ned’s fingers as Ned pounds into him, hard enough that Duck’s going to be reminded of it all day, sitting in the Jeep or the Ranger station. Ned keeps up a mostly steady stream of chatter but Duck’s ability to process it has gone out the window, so maybe Ned warns him but suddenly Ned’s hand is around Duck’s own cock, and it only takes a few moments more before Duck’s spilling into Ned’s cupped hand. His intensely glad that Ned’s other hand is around his mouth because he absolutely couldn’t have controlled his volume just then. A moment later and Ned follows him, burying his own groan in Duck’s shoulder.

 

“Well I guess you could say I gave you a good _Ducking_ _down_ ,” Ned says, far too jovially, a few minutes later as Duck zips ups his pants. 

“You could,” he agrees, keeping his voice as neutral as he can, “if you wanted those to be your last words.”

Ned laughs and slaps Duck’s back. “Got it, friend. Mums the word.”

Duck rolls his eyes. “Well I’m glad I could help with your ‘raccoon problem,’” he says and the way Ned smiles confirms what Duck has suspected. There’d never been a wild animal at The Cryptonomica in the first place.

 

* * *

 

_Proceed to Chapter 6_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I did NOT actually start writing this with the intent of Ned dirty talking or Duck liking being called a slut. That's just what ended up happening, and I'm still not sure how I feel about it.


	3. Agent Stern

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Listen,_ Duck knows it's a bad idea but also he's into powerful guys in suits so...

 

After Duck’s shift ends, he considers going to the lodge to check in with the Pine Guard, but what Beacon said that morning is still niggling in his head, so instead of going to the lodge or home, he heads to a bar. He changes into a clean tee he keeps in his car and out of the uniform he’s been wearing all day. He wants to make it totally clear that he’s off duty (he’d prefer to stop off at home to change for real but that would mean speaking to Beacon and he doesn’t have the patience to deal with him).

Kepler may be a small town, but it’s got a good enough population that Duck’s pretty sure he can find somebody tonight. And if not, well then he can at least enjoy some good whiskey, and spend a night  _ not _ worrying about monsters. He deserves that, he thinks.

 

Duck has just decided that his chances of getting laid tonight are low-to-none (not a lot of folks out tonight and fewer still ones he was interested in) and has just swapped the beer he’s been nursing for hard alcohol when somebody sits beside him at the bar.

“Ranger Newton,” Stern greets and gestures to the bartender for a drink of his own.

“Duck, actually,” he corrects, automatically. “Out of uniform, don’t need to be so formal now do we,” he eyes Stern, still dressed in his customary black suit, “ _ Agent _ Stern?”

Stern cracks a grin but doesn’t offer his own name in return.  _ Fair enough _ , Duck thinks as he knock backs his drink. When he puts his glass back down, empty, he catches Stern  _ looking _ at him. Well, not really ‘catches’ since Stern isn’t exactly being discreet about it, so Duck doesn’t bother being discreet as he looks back. And, okay, Duck had seen Stern in a towel that one time, though he’d been too distracted by the imminent threat of a water monster to appreciate but he knows that under that suit, there’s definitely a body Duck wouldn’t mind having against him. And well, Duck has always been into powerful guys in suits  _ anyway _ , so if he purposefully licks his lips to see Stern’s reaction, there’s nobody around to see.

 

Duck  _ knows _ this is a bad idea, but currently Agent Stern—and Duck doesn’t even know his first name and that is surprisingly, insanely hot—has him pushed up against the sink in the bathroom and he doesn’t  _ care _ . Stern bites at his lips, and Duck moans reflexively, tightening his fingers in Stern’s hair. He moans too, low in his throat, and pushes impossibly closer to Duck.

“I can’t fuck you here,” Stern says low, moving his mouth to bite at Duck’s neck. Duck shudders because he  _ wants  _ that—he’d been expecting reciprocal hand jobs, maybe blowjobs, in the bathroom—but he’d literally rather die than go to the Lodge or his apartment with Stern in tow.

“Car?” Duck manages to gasp out. 

He can feel Stern smile against his neck. “Parked out back.”

They leave the bathroom separately not that Duck thinks they look any less suspicious—Duck splashes water on his face but it doesn’t do anything to alleviate how red he is or hide the newly forming bruise on his neck, and Stern’s suit and hair are a downright mess—and after settling their tabs, they head out back. Stern’s car is a dark SUV and the spitting image of literally every ‘undercover fed’ car in modern media. It also, Duck notes with satisfaction, has a rather large and roomy backseat and, more importantly, heavily tinted windows.

Not that he notices any of that at first, of course, since as soon as they reach the car, Stern’s got him pressed up against the side of it again. Duck groans and lets himself be manhandled. Stern hadn’t seemed especially aggressive or assertive in their previous interactions, and Duck is  _ very  _ pleasantly surprised.

They make out like that for a while till Duck’s panting and just shy of begging. He hasn’t gotten any in so long and he just  _ wants _ so achingly much, that he’s half prepared to get on his knees out here just for  _ something _ to happen. It doesn’t come to that though because Stern manages to pull away enough to open the car door.

Duck climbs in and is almost immediately pushed on his back, Stern kneeling over him. Duck shudders as Stern’s hands find the hem of Duck’s tee shirt and roam upward, pushing it up as he explores Duck’s stomach and chest, following with his lips and tongue. Duck wriggles and Stern gets the gist and lets him sit up enough to tug the shirt off completely.

But when Stern goes to start unbuttoning his own shirt, Duck reaches out and grabs his wrist. “No, uh, leave it on.” Stern pauses and Duck can't really make out his expression in the dark, but then Stern’s falling onto him and kissing him with brutal intensity.

Duck’s shoes are kicked off and his jeans and boxers are removed either the same swiftness, till Duck is laying naked underneath a fully clothed Stern. “Now, what am I going to do with you?” Stern asks, hands romancing down Duck’s sides but  _ deliberately _ steering clear of the one place he wants to be touched the most.

“I do believe you mentioned something about fucking earlie—ahhhh.” Duck breaks off in a moan, as Stern chooses that moment to give him a good full stroke.

Duck’s not sure where Stern gets the supplies—do  _ all  _ FBI agents keep their back seats stocked with lube and condoms?—but pretty soon he’s being opened up with thorough intensity. He’s glad that the backlot had otherwise been empty and that Stern hadn’t parked near the building because there’d be no mistaking the noises Duck’s making as anything other than what it is.

When Duck knows he’s ready, he gathers himself enough to say actual words, like “ready” and “come on” and “ _ Jesus Christ fuck me _ ,” though who knows what order they come out in. Stern must get the gist because he pulls his fingers out—and even though he’d just demanded it, he whines at the loss and wriggles ineffectively to keep them in—and then Duck hears a zipper and the telltale sound of a condom wrapper, and  _ finally _ , Stern pushes into him.

He’s careful, goes slow at first, but Duck is too keyed up and just wants to be  _ fucked _ , so he grabs a hold of Stern’s jacket and urges him in till they’re pulled flush. Stern’s shirt and jacket rub against Duck’s very bare and  _ very _ sensitive chest, and when he’s fully inside, Duck can feel his zipper, pulled just down enough to free his cock, against his ass as well. Stern’s head is resting on Duck’s shoulder, and they’re both panting heavily as they adjust to the new sensation.

Then Stern moves slightly and his shirt moves against Duck’s hard-on and he gives a rough shout, quickly muffled by Stern’s mouth, and then they’re moving in earnest. A car’s not the ideal place for this and they can’t get the  _ best _ angles but at this point, Duck’s so far gone it doesn’t matter. Stern’s back to biting at Duck’s neck which is going to be hell covering up in the morning, and Duck pants and moans and groans and tries to use what little leverage he can get to push back and urge Stern on harder.

Then Stern gets a hand between them, around Duck’s cock, and he bites particularly hard on his neck, and Duck comes with a choked off shout. A moment later, he can feel Stern stiffen and spill inside him. They lay there for a while longer, till they get their breath back and the sweat on Duck’s skin starts feeling tacky and a little gross.

Stern pulls out and after removing the condom, tucks himself back in, then he moves over so Duck can sit up. It’s harder to get clothes on in the backseat of a car than it is to take them off it turns out, but Duck manages to wriggle back into his boxers and jeans.

“Oh well that’s unfortunate,” Stern says as Duck’s pulling on his tee shirt, and when Duck looks, he’s holding out his own shirt which caught quite a bit of Duck’s cum.

It’s so absurd and Duck can’t help himself, he laughs. “Sorry, sorry,” he says but Stern laughs too.

He passes Duck his shoes and it’s far less awkward than Duck would’ve expected it to be. As they climb out of the backseat, Duck rolls his shoulders and hides a wince. As hot as that was, he’s not exactly 20 anymore, and he can already tell his back is going to hate him in the morning. “Alright, well, I’ll see ya around then.”

“I’m sure you will,” Stern says with a smile but there’s no mistaking the look he gives Duck, like he’s undressing him again.

Duck walks away, back to his own car, feeling satisfied and pretty good for himself.

 

* * *

 

_Proceed to Chapter 6._


	4. Barclay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question: is fucking Bigfoot considered bestiality? I just need to know exactly what I'm going to Hell for.
> 
> Also warning for unsafe sex practices that I don't condone... unless of course you get the chance to fuck Bigfoot in which case I think a condom is superfluous.

Duck drives around for awhile after work. He’s had dinner, and he doesn’t have anything else to do, but he doesn’t want to head back home just yet. He’s humming along to an old CD when suddenly Aubrey’s voice crackles through the radio they have set up for Pine Guard business.

_ “Duck! Duck can you uh read me? Duck!” _

Duck grabs the radio, heart suddenly in his throat. “I read you Aubrey. What’s happened? Over.”

_ “There’s been a—you need to—here quickly. Over.” _ She keeps getting cut off by static but she sounds frantic.

“Where am I heading? Over.”

More static for a moment then she replies, “The field—not with the gate—North—Over.”

Duck turns the jeep around and heads off towards the woods. “I’m coming, over.”

He finds the gate field quickly enough and then turns and heads North of there, till he can clearly hear the signs of people, finally coming onto another small clearing. He can tell what’s happened right away: there’s a tree stump burned coal black and still smoking a little and just a few years away is Aubrey looking like she wants to disappear. There’s a few Lodge residents about too, who must’ve helped put a stop to the flame before it could catch into the surrounding brush, if the way they’re examining the area means anything. Duck sighs and forces his hands to relax on the wheel before finally climbing out of the Jeep.

“Aubrey!” Duck calls, and he can see her flinch before she turns and waves meekly.

“Hi! Yeah so I guess we have this under control now! Sorry for bothering you!” she says with forced cheerfulness.

Duck huffs as he finally reaches her.  _ “Under control? _ Aubrey, how many times have I warned you about practicing that stuff out here? You caught a  _ goddamn tree _ on fire and could’ve burned down the forest.” Aubrey winces but doesn’t protest as Duck gives her a thorough lecture. By the end she looks appropriately chastised, but he waves off her apologies. “Just go on, get to bed.”

Duck watches as Aubrey walks off dejectedly, joined by Dani and followed by the rest of the Lodge residents. Some of them nod at Duck in greeting, but most just look happy to be heading back to bed themselves, and ignore him. Duck does his own quick examination of the area, confirms there’s no lingering embers, then he walks back to the Jeep, leaning against the side with a heavy sigh.

He stays like that for a long while till he hears a sound in the woods. When he opens his eyes, he sees Barclay heading towards him. “Thought you’d still be out here,” he greets, then hands Duck a thermos out of a satchel he’s carrying. He takes it, a little surprised, and when he pops it open, the familiar smell of French Onion soup wafts out.

“Sorry about all this, dragging you away from whatever plans you had,” Barclay apologizes, and at Duck’s raised eyebrow, he explains, “I’m the one who made her call you.”

“It was the right thing to do,” Duck reassures as he pours some soup into the thermos lid and takes a cautious sip. He has to bite back a moan it tastes so good. He swallows and continues, “And I didn’t really have plans to speak of anyway.” He takes another sip, still just as good.

“You like it?” Barclay asks and Duck opens his eyes—when did he even close them?—to find Barclay focusing on him with a strange intensity.

“It’s  _ really _ good,” Duck confirms, then punctuates that statement with another sip. He can feel some of the tension he’d been carrying all day—all week even—drain out from his shoulders.

Barclay nods and steps closer, just a little  _ too _ close, and it clicks for Duck what that look he’s giving him means. He doesn’t try and hide his sigh of pleasure after the next sip and sure enough, Barclay’s eyes darken. “Did you bring me soup to seduce me?” Duck asks.

“Well… secondary purposes, really,” Barclay replies, and then his mouth is a little too busy to speak as he’s kissing Duck thoroughly. Duck has to keep his hands where they are since he’s still holding an open thermos, but he kisses back with as much intensity as he can. When Barclay breaks away, Duck is quick to put the lid back on the thermos, then toss it through the open car window into the front seat. Once he has his hands free again, he grabs hold of Barclay’s usual plaid shirt and pulls him back in.

“I want to…” Duck drops to his knees, and Barclay undos his pants, so that Duck can get at his hardening cock. It’s a good cock as far as Duck is concerned, and he wastes no time taking the head into his mouth. Barclay groans as Duck takes him in a little farther and Duck hums, pleased with himself.

While Duck is sucking him, Barclay twists one hand through his hair, tugging lightly. His other hand traces across Duck’s cheek and he can feel Barclay’s bracelet. It makes Duck wonder about his  _ other _ form, and Duck is secure enough in himself to admit that he’s a bit of a size queen. The thought of the presumably proportional sized cock—even Barclay’s human form certainly isn’t small—makes him moan around his current mouthful. He pulls back, intent on asking since this might well be a once in a lifetime kind of experience.

“Have you ever…” he starts, trying to find a way to phrase it that doesn’t make him sound like a degenerate, but he can’t so he just catches Barclay’s worst in one hand and tugs lightly on the bracelet, “...without this?”

Barclay’s quiet for a moment, enough time that Duck has one clear moment of panic that maybe he shouldn’t have asked, but then he’s pulling Duck back up to his feet and pushing him against the car. He presses a leg between Duck’s own, and Duck groans and bucks against the pressure. “I have,” Barclay says low in his throat in a faux growl that makes Duck shiver. “You wanna try?”

“That depends,” Duck manages to say, breathy but amused, “is it true what they say about guys with big feet?”

Barclay drops his head and laughs against Duck’s neck. “Only one way to find out,” he says, and then he tugs off the bracelet.

 

_ “Jesus,” _ Duck breathes. He’s not a small man by any means, but Barclay is towering over him. His fingers, now cupping Duck’s face, are huge things that Duck can’t wait to get inside of him. Speaking of which… Duck glances down and inhales sharply. His assumption about proportional sizes was correct. Barclay’s cock is massive and hard, pressing against Duck’s front and making his mouth water.

Duck goes to his knees again, almost on autopilot. He was never good at deepthroating before and he’s certainly not going to try now, not with literally the biggest dick he’s ever seen, but he feels compelled to get his mouth on it some way. Barclay groans, lower now, more primal, really like a  _ growl _ this time, and his hand comes up to cover and press lightly against the back of Duck’s head. It goes straight to Duck’s own cock, and he moans as he continues to lavish attention on Barclay.

Duck could probably spend all night on his knees like this, but that’s not what he really wants. He stands, despite Barclay’s low protest and practically begs, “ _ Please _ tell me you brought something.” Barclay uses one his large hands to press against the front of Duck’s pants which in turn makes him collapse back against the jeep with a groan, while he grabs his discarded satchel with the other.

A moment later, he triumphantly pulls out a bottle of lube, and Duck laughs breathily, “Pretty confident on you seduction plan, huh?”

Barclay just presses harder on his dick so he’s cut off with a moan. “I don’t have condoms is you really want to do it like this,” Barclay says—and this form’s voice is lower and rougher and Duck is  _ very _ into it—”but I don’t have anything contagious.”

Duck takes a second to catch his breath before he nods and says, “Neither do I. Let’s do this.”

Positioning is a little tricky: on all fours on the ground is discarded (Duck’s not a particular fan of fucking on pine needles or getting splinters) as is against a tree and over a stump for similar reasons. Finally though, they decide on the Jeep as the most convenient and comfortable. Duck winds up standing on the running board, bent over into the backseat, with Barclay behind him.

Duck buries his head in his arms while Barclay opens him up, his fingers are so big and long and he could probably cum just from this. Barclay is careful and surprisingly—for his appearance but not really for his character—gentle, clearly he doesn’t want to hurt him. But Duck is practically sobbing, hole stretched as wide as he thinks it can even go and dripping with lube and so hard it  _ hurts _ , before Barclay enters him.

He isn’t rough, even when fucking him, but at this point it doesn’t matter at all to Duck who’s just trying to hold on as Barclay’s massive cock slowly fills him up. Finally, he’s in fully, and it doesn't matter the angle because it’d actually be impossible for prostate to  _ not _ be touched. It’s verging on the edge of uncomfortable, but Duck is still hard and steadily leaking precum, probably ruining the Jeep’s seat under him. Then Barclay moves, pulls back out a little then shoves in, and Duck cries out and shoves back.

He cums in what might be considered an embarrassingly short amount of time—if Duck even had a threshold for embarrassment anymore after being rawed in the woods by Bigfoot—without being touched. He’s not sure when he  _ stops _ cumming because Barclay is still moving inside hi  impossibly big, and Duck is still so hard, and the whole thing is so  _ good _ . He just moves with Barclay and keeps up a broken stream of encouragement and praise and noises that are wrenched out of his very being as he taken so deep he can practically feel it in his  _ throat. _

Barclay pulls out before he cums which Duck is grateful for since that’s one mess he doesn’t want to deal with later, though in the moment the loss makes Duck whine and press back for more. Instead, Duck supposes he must finish on the ground because he makes a sound, kind of like a roar that would probably scare the shit out of him in any other situation, and then falls on top of Duck, like a giant, furry blanket.

They lay like that panting together in the now silent air, and then Barclay gives a full body shiver and he’s back in his human form. Duck shivers too. Now that his Bigfoot form isn’t covering him, he can feel the cooler forest air on his bare skin. Barclay notices and stands up, helping Duck up as well so he can get at least marginally cleaned up.

“I’m going to be feeling that for a  _ week _ ,” Duck says, his voice rough and scratchy from the encounter, and because Barclay looks like he’s about to apologize, he cuts him off, “ _ Definitely _ in a good way.”

They wind up sitting on the Jeep’s fender, sharing the canister of soup—which is nice on his sore throat—till Duck feels enough like a human again that he might be able to drive.

 

* * *

 

_Proceed to Chapter 6._


	5. Beacon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to all the Nasty Anons, who, through repeated exposure, got me into this.

Duck comes home, tired from his long shift and just about ready to fall into bed and forget the whole day, but that plan is immediately ruined by Beacon. As soon as Duck steps into the kitchen, Beacon says disapprovingly, “You did not heed my advice, Duck Newton.”

Duck internally kicks himself for having left Beacon out that morning, but outwardly, he sighs and says, “Beacon, I’m really not in the mood for this.”

But before Duck can leave the room, Beacon speaks up, voice tinged low, “Duck Newton, have you completely forgotten our time together before you so rudely locked me away?”

Duck freezes because  _ yeah he does _ —he was 18 and a little drunk and a lot stupid and it turns out Beacon has a remarkably talented tongue when he’s not insulting Duck’s entire existence—and Beacon takes the pause to say, “Come on, Duck Newton, you know you want to.” And  _ goddamn fuck _ , but Duck’s already half hard just thinking about it.

Duck clenches his jaw and considers his options and well, he  _ really _ doesn’t want to go to bed with his own hand again tonight, so he turns back to the table and grabs Beacon. He doesn’t say anything else, but on the walk to the bedroom, he gives off a certain smug air that has Duck half considering just throwing him back into a closet.

But he doesn’t.

It’s awkward as hell as Duck undresses, but Beacon is naturally bossy and Duck’s good at taking orders, so it works out. “Lay down Duck Newton,” Beacon says—and Duck is glad he doesn’t use this particular tone of voice often because even though it’s better than his usual style, Duck would be half hard all the time—and Duck follows, stretching out on his cool sheets. “Now pick me up, there, by the cross guard.” Duck takes both ends and holds him in the air for a brief moment till Beacon says, “Now fuck my mouth, Duck Newton.” Then he lowers Beacon down over his cock.

He gasps at the first feeling of Beacon’s tongue and after that he’s just a stream of broken sounds and noises as he bucks and moves under Beacon—both of them being careful to keep the blade far away from his body. He gets his heels under him to better thrust upwards into the slick wet heat and uses the cross guard to match his movements. Beacon, for his part, lets himself be fucked and when Duck gets his rhythm, sets in on his own, lips and tongue and the occasional graze of teeth that has Duck biting his lips to keep from shouting. When Beacon starts humming is when Duck really loses it, holding Beacon still as he spills into his mouth, and he, impossibly, swallows every bit.

Finally he pulls Beacon off his sensitized cock and collapses back on the bed, flushed and panting. Beacon chooses this moment, when he’s the most soft and pliable, to speak up again, “You know what else we could do, Duck Newton?”

“What?” Duck asks.

“Oh so you  _ have _ forgotten, then,” Beacon says. “I’d thought it would’ve been a memorable occasion, the first time you took me up your ass, Duck Newton.”

“Oh,” Duck says, a little dazed, “ _ that _ .”

“Yes,  _ that _ ,” Beacon agrees, then he drops his voice into a murmur. “You  _ do _ remember that, Duck Newton? Prepping yourself till you were begging for it? My ridges inside of you and my mouth around you?”

Duck is slightly ashamed of how just talking about it makes him half hard again  _ already _ . Even more so that he can’t form a full coherent sentence, just a strangled acknowledgement.

“Go on then, get the lube,” Beacon orders and Duck fumbles around in his bedside table for a moment before pulling out a bottle. “And I’m sure you know what to do now.” Duck does and he works himself open as Beacon urges him on.

“I’m ready,” Duck gasps and Beacon hums in approval.

“Get me slippery Duck Newton.”

Duck groans. “That’s  _ not _ a phrase I ever want to hear again.”

“Then keep me busy,” Beacon counters, and Duck takes the challenges. He squeezes out a generous amount of lube and begins working it over Beacon’s hilt, then carefully slides it into his ass.

He moans as the interesting shapes of the sword—twists and ridges unlike any dildo he’s ever tried—drags at his insides, and he has to pause, a panting, sweaty mess when the pommel presses right against his prostate, less he come right then and there. Breath collected, he begins truly fucking himself, slowly at first then in earnest, letting out broken moans when he brushes his prostate, on every second or so thrust.

That might be enough, but then Beacon’s tongue comes into play again. His mouth resides slightly above the cross guard, and when Duck bottoms out, he’s close enough to reach the stretched out rim of Duck’s hole. Duck switches his rhythm, twisting Beacon around while he fucks him in and out so no one part of his hole goes untended. But even this devolves till Duck has got the hilt pressed firmly against his prostate, thrusting hard against the air, and Beacon licking at his perineum He comes like that, untouched and hypersensitive.

 

For not actually having much of a face, Beacon manages to exude extreme smugness while Duck cleans him off. Duck might have something to say about that but right now he’s too tired and satisfied to care much.

“Good night, Duck Newton,” Beacon calls, and Duck pauses before turning off the kitchen light.

“Night, Beacon.”

 

* * *

 

_Proceed to Chapter 6._


	6. Epilogue

After Duck takes a thorough shower, he collapses back onto his bed, already starting to drift off as soon as his head hits the pillow. He's exhausted and sore but in a _very_ good mood.

 

* * *

  

_Congratulations, you successfully got Duck a good fucking!_

_Start over from Chapter 1 to choose a different path or read Chapter 7 for the 'all pairings' aka the 'Duck's a slut' option._


	7. Duck's a slut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Duck and the wonderful, magnificent, not bad, very good day.

Duck steps out of the Ranger Jeep and makes his way to the front of The Cryptonomica. He holds the door open for a few tourists who are leaving and nods at them when thank him cheerily. They both, he notices, have gift bags. Ned’s business certainly has ticked up since the start of this whole thing. Ned’s friend/associate Kirby is sitting at the front desk and cashier area so Duck heads towards him. “There was a call about a wild animal?”

Kirby doesn’t even look up from his laptop., just waves vaguely behind him and says, “Ned’s in the back.” Duck rolls his eyes but heads on through the “employees only” door.

“Ned? You back here?” he calls, and gets an answering confirmation from further back in the room, so Duck makes his way back. He idly wonders what the actual criteria of being a hoarder is, as he passes the case Beacon had once been held in, and finds Ned sitting at an ancient desk.

“Ah Duck! What a wonderful surprise to see you here today!” Ned exclaims, standing up and stepping around the desk  to greet him with his customary clap on the arm. Uncustomarily, he doesn’t move it away

“You too Ned,” Duck says, amused. “Somebody called the Ranger station about a wild animal...?”

“Yes well one of our patrons was startled by a raccoon that’d jumped on their car. Called y’all to be safe but it scurried off when we banged a couple trash lids around and it hasn’t turned back up again.” Ned had started massaging his shoulder halfway through his explanation and Duck looks down at his hand confused, then back up at Ned with a raised eyebrow.

“And that’s _all_ you called us for?” Duck asks incredulously. Ned grins unabashed and moves his hand up to Duck’s neck. Duck shivers but doesn’t step away.

“The truth is yes but now that you’re here, and there’s no wild animal for you to be catching, I can think of some _other_ way to pass the time.” Ned’s fingers run through the short hairs on the back of Duck’s neck and his lips part involuntarily.

“I’m on duty,” Duck gets the mind to protest but Ned waves him off.

“And you’ve got a radio on you if there’s an emergency, now come on, you deserve a break.”

Duck chews on his lip and considers it. He and Ned have fucked on and off since their friendship began and Duck knows that Ned knows how to give it to him right... which is exactly what Duck needs right now. “Alright then,” he agrees, “but it’s gotta be quick.”

“Excellent!” Ned exclaims then he switches places with Duck and turns him around in one smooth move so he’s bending over the desk.

“I thought we’d be heading to your room,” Duck points out because Ned _does_ have a bedroom attached to The Cryptonomica.

“You said quick,” Ned points out, “and this is the quickest.” But the fact that he then pulls lube and a condom out of s desk drawer implies he’d been planning this. Duck actually doesn’t mind that, and he lets Ned tug down his pants, then tightens his grip on the edge of the desk as Ned runs a cold lubed finger down his crack.

“Jesus Ned,” he hisses. “Warn a guy next time would ya?”

“Sorry,” Ned says, sounding not in the least apologetic. He does pump Duck’s cock a few times which is enough of an apology for Duck and he groans.

“Shhh,” Ned hushes him. “Hear that?” Duck does faintly, the tell tale jingle of the front door bell, then the low murmur of people from the front room. “You have to be quiet or else everyone out there is gonna know how much a slut you are.” He punctuates this statement with the first intrusion of his finger and Duck has to bite back a moan.

“Yeah,” Ned continues, speaking low into Duck’s ear as he works into him. “Ranger Duck Newton, about as respectable as can be in this town. What would people think if they knew you were begging for it in my back room?”

Duck bucks his hips, trying to get Ned to _hurry on with it already_ , but Ned doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he continues to move his hand slow enough that Duck has to keep himself from cursing.

“But maybe you want that,” Ned continues, giving a few strokes of Duck’s cock which is fully hard now. Duck bites hard on his lip to keep from morning. “Oh yeah you do don’t you? You want someone to come in and find us.” He puts in another finger and Duck’s grip on the desk tightens but he doesn’t make a noise. “The doors not even locked,” Ned says, almost conversationally. “Kirby could walk back here any time, looking for the new brochures we printed. Or a tourist could get lost looking for the bathroom. Then what would they see?” Ned finds his prostate with one quick thrust and Duck makes a strangled noise, dropping his head to try and cut it off.

“You’ve got to be quiet,” Ned chides. “This is _my_ place of business, maybe _I_ don’t want to be caught fucking a slut like you here.” Duck can’t help it, he bucks and lets out a small moan at that. Immediately, Ned’s free hand is clapped over his mouth. “I don’t have a proper gag so this will have to do. I know a slut like you needs to be kept busy at both ends.” He moves his hand so it’s no longer clamped over Ducks mouth and a few fingers slip inside. Duck immediately starts sucking on them. “There now isn’t that better? But I know you wish that was my dick.” Duck can’t exactly reply but he sucks harder on the fingers in agreement. “Well you’re going to get it but you can only have it in one place,” Ned says, then he purposefully wriggles his fingers in Duck’s ass, then the ones in his mouth. “What’s your choice?”

Duck whines but quietly and thrusts his hips, hoping Ned gets the hint to just _fuck him_ already. He must because the next thing Duck knows, Ned’s fingers are gone and Ned’s lubed up cock is at his entrance.

Duck can’t focus on sucking Ned’s fingers as he fucks him. He just hangs onto the desk and holds on as best he can, Ned moves his hand back to clasping over Duck’s mouth now that he’s got almost no control over the sounds he’s making. He pants around Ned’s fingers as Ned pounds into him, hard enough that Duck’s going to be reminded of it all day, sitting in the Jeep or the Ranger station. Ned keeps up a mostly steady stream of chatter but Duck’s ability to process it has gone out the window, so maybe Ned warns him but suddenly Ned’s hand is around Duck’s own cock, and it only takes a few moments more before Duck’s spilling into Ned’s cupped hand. His intensely glad that Ned’s other hand is around his mouth because he absolutely couldn’t have controlled his volume just then. A moment later and Ned follows him, burying his own groan in Duck’s shoulder.

 

“Well I guess you could say I gave you a good _Ducking_ _down_ ,” Ned says, far too jovially, a few minutes later as Duck zips ups his pants.

“You could,” he agrees, keeping his voice as neutral as he can, “if you wanted those to be your last words.”

Ned laughs and slaps Duck’s back. “Got it, friend. Mums the word.”

Duck rolls his eyes. “Well I’m glad I could help with your ‘raccoon problem,’” he says and the way Ned smiles confirms what Duck has suspected. There’d never been a wild animal at The Cryptonomica in the first place.

 

* * *

 

Duck finishes his long shift--made to feel even longer by his impromptu hookup with Ned that had left him vaguely keyed up all day--and briefly considers going to the Lodge to check in with the Pine Guard. But, no, he decides, he’s already worked a full day, and he deserves a break, so instead, he heads to a bar.

He changes into a clean tee he keeps in the Jeep and out of the uniform he’s been wearing all day; he wants to make it totally clear that he’s off duty. Honestly, he’d prefer to stop off at home to change for real but that would mean speaking to Beacon and he doesn’t have the patience to deal with him. So he’s going to get a few drinks and relax, and, well, if he happens to find somebody to take him home tonight, he certainly won’t be complaining.

 

Duck has just decided that his chances of getting laid tonight are low-to-none (not a lot of folks out tonight and fewer still ones he was interested in) and has just swapped the beer he’s been nursing for hard alcohol when somebody sits beside him at the bar.

“Ranger Newton,” Stern greets and gestures to the bartender for a drink of his own.

“Duck, actually,” he corrects, automatically. “Out of uniform, don’t need to be so formal now do we,” he eyes Stern, still dressed in his customary black suit, “ _Agent_ Stern?”

Stern cracks a grin but doesn’t offer his own name in return. _Fair enough_ , Duck thinks as he knock backs his drink. When he puts his glass back down, empty, he catches Stern _looking_ at him. Well, not really ‘catches’ since Stern isn’t exactly being discreet about it, so Duck doesn’t bother being discreet as he looks back. And, okay, Duck had seen Stern in a towel that one time, though he’d been too distracted by the imminent threat of a water monster to appreciate but he knows that under that suit, there’s definitely a body Duck wouldn’t mind having against him. And well, Duck has always been into powerful guys in suits _anyway_ , so if he purposefully licks his lips to see Stern’s reaction, there’s nobody around to see.

 

Duck _knows_ this is a bad idea, but currently Agent Stern—and Duck doesn’t even know his first name and that is surprisingly, insanely hot—has him pushed up against the sink in the bathroom and he doesn’t _care_. Stern bites at his lips, and Duck moans reflexively, tightening his fingers in Stern’s hair. He moans too, low in his throat, and pushes impossibly closer to Duck.

“I can’t fuck you here,” Stern says low, moving his mouth to bite at Duck’s neck. Duck shudders because he _wants_ that—he’d been expecting reciprocal hand jobs, maybe blowjobs, in the bathroom—but he’d literally rather die than go to the Lodge or his apartment with Stern in tow.

“Car?” Duck manages to gasp out.

He can feel Stern smile against his neck. “Parked out back.”

They leave the bathroom separately not that Duck thinks they look any less suspicious—Duck splashes water on his face but it doesn’t do anything to alleviate how red he is or hide the newly forming bruise on his neck, and Stern’s suit and hair are a downright mess—and after settling their tabs, they head out back. Stern’s car is a dark SUV and the spitting image of literally every ‘undercover fed’ car in modern media. It also, Duck notes with satisfaction, has a rather large and roomy backseat and, more importantly, heavily tinted windows.

Not that he notices any of that at first, of course, since as soon as they reach the car, Stern’s got him pressed up against the side of it again. Duck groans and lets himself be manhandled. Stern hadn’t seemed especially aggressive or assertive in their previous interactions, and Duck is _very_ pleasantly surprised.

They make out like that for a while till Duck’s panting and just shy of begging. Ned had fucked him good that morning but it’s like there’s still an itch that needs to be scratched. He just _wants_ so achingly much, that he’s half prepared to get on his knees out here just for _something_ to happen. It doesn’t come to that though because Stern manages to pull away enough to open the car door.

Duck climbs in and is almost immediately pushed on his back, Stern kneeling over him. Duck shudders as Stern’s hands find the hem of Duck’s tee shirt and roam upward, pushing it up as he explores Duck’s stomach and chest, following with his lips and tongue. Duck wriggles and Stern gets the gist and lets him sit up enough to tug the shirt off completely.

But when Stern goes to start unbuttoning his own shirt, Duck reaches out and grabs his wrist. “No, uh, leave it on.” Stern pauses and Duck can't really make out his expression in the dark, but then Stern’s falling onto him and kissing him with brutal intensity.

Duck’s shoes are kicked off and his jeans and boxers are removed either the same swiftness, till Duck is laying naked underneath a fully clothed Stern. “Now, what am I going to do with you?” Stern asks, hands romancing down Duck’s sides but _deliberately_ steering clear of the one place he wants to be touched the most.

“I do believe you mentioned something about fucking earlie—ahhhh.” Duck breaks off in a moan, as Stern chooses that moment to give him a good full stroke.

Duck’s not sure where Stern gets the supplies—do _all_ FBI agents keep their back seats stocked with lube and condoms?—but pretty soon he’s being opened up with thorough intensity for the second time in a day. He’s glad that the backlot had otherwise been empty and that Stern hadn’t parked near the building because there’d be no mistaking the noises Duck’s making as anything other than what it is.

When Duck knows he’s ready, he gathers himself enough to say actual words, like “ready” and “come on” and “ _Jesus Christ fuck me_ ,” though who knows what order they come out in. Stern must get the gist because he pulls his fingers out—and even though he’d just demanded it, he whines at the loss and wriggles ineffectively to keep them in—and then Duck hears a zipper and the telltale sound of a condom wrapper, and _finally_ , Stern pushes into him.

He’s careful, goes slow at first, but Duck is too keyed up and just wants to be _fucked_ , so he grabs a hold of Stern’s jacket and urges him in till they’re pulled flush. Stern’s shirt and jacket rub against Duck’s very bare and _very_ sensitive chest, and when he’s fully inside, Duck can feel his zipper, pulled just down enough to free his cock, against his ass as well. Stern’s head is resting on Duck’s shoulder, and they’re both panting heavily as they adjust to the new sensation.

Then Stern moves slightly and his shirt moves against Duck’s hard-on and he gives a rough shout, quickly muffled by Stern’s mouth, and then they’re moving in earnest. A car’s not the ideal place for this and they can’t get the _best_ angles but at this point, Duck’s so far gone it doesn’t matter. Stern’s back to biting at Duck’s neck which is going to be hell covering up in the morning, and Duck pants and moans and groans and tries to use what little leverage he can get to push back and urge Stern on harder.

Then Stern gets a hand between them, around Duck’s cock, and he bites particularly hard on his neck, and Duck comes with a choked off shout. A moment later, he can feel Stern stiffen and spill inside him. They lay there for a while longer, till they get their breath back and the sweat on Duck’s skin starts feeling tacky and a little gross.

Stern pulls out and after removing the condom, tucks himself back in, then he moves over so Duck can sit up. It’s harder to get clothes on in the backseat of a car than it is to take them off it turns out, but Duck manages to wriggle back into his boxers and jeans.

“Oh well that’s unfortunate,” Stern says as Duck’s pulling on his tee shirt, and when Duck looks, he’s holding out his own shirt which caught quite a bit of Duck’s cum.

It’s so absurd and Duck can’t help himself, he laughs. “Sorry, sorry,” he says but Stern laughs too.

He passes Duck his shoes and it’s far less awkward than Duck would’ve expected it to be. As they climb out of the backseat, Duck rolls his shoulders and hides a wince. As hot as that was, he’s not exactly 20 anymore, and he can already tell his back is going to hate him in the morning. “Alright, well, I’ll see ya around then.”

“I’m sure you will,” Stern says with a smile but there’s no mistaking the look he gives Duck, like he’s undressing him again.

Duck walks away, back to his own car, feeling satisfied and pretty good for himself.

 

* * *

 

Duck isn’t drunk though he is pretty hungry--working up an appetite with Stern--so he grabs a quick bite to eat. He doesn’t have anything else to _do_ , but he doesn’t want to head back home just yet, and since it’s a rather nice night, he just drives around for a while. He’s humming along to an old CD when suddenly Aubrey’s voice crackles through the radio they have set up for Pine Guard business.

_“Duck! Duck can you uh read me? Duck!”_

Duck grabs the radio, heart suddenly in his throat. “I read you Aubrey. What’s happened? Over.”

 _“There’s been a—you need to—here quickly. Over.”_ She keeps getting cut off by static but she sounds frantic.

“Where am I heading? Over.”

More static for a moment then she replies, “The field—not with the gate—North—Over.”

Duck turns the jeep around and heads off towards the woods. “I’m coming, over.”

-

He finds the gate field quickly enough and then turns and heads North of there, till he can clearly hear the signs of people, finally coming onto another small clearing. He can tell what’s happened right away: there’s a tree stump burned coal black and still smoking a little and just a few years away is Aubrey looking like she wants to disappear. There’s a few Lodge residents about too, who must’ve helped put a stop to the flame before it could catch into the surrounding brush, if the way they’re examining the area means anything. Duck sighs and forces his hands to relax on the wheel before finally climbing out of the Jeep.

“Aubrey!” Duck calls, and he can see her flinch before she turns and waves meekly.

“Hi! Yeah so I guess we have this under control now! Sorry for bothering you!” she says with forced cheerfulness.

Duck huffs as he finally reaches her. _“Under control?_ Aubrey, how many times have I warned you about practicing that stuff out here? You caught a _goddamn tree_ on fire and could’ve burned down the forest.” Aubrey winces but doesn’t protest as Duck gives her a thorough lecture. By the end she looks appropriately chastised, but he waves off her apologies. “Just go on, get to bed.”

Duck watches as Aubrey walks off dejectedly, joined by Dani and followed by the rest of the Lodge residents. Some of them nod at Duck in greeting, but most just look happy to be heading back to bed themselves and ignore him. Duck does his own quick examination of the area, confirms there’s no lingering embers, then he walks back to the Jeep, leaning against the side with a heavy sigh.

He stays like that for a long while till he hears a sound in the woods. When he opens his eyes, he sees Barclay heading towards him. “Thought you’d still be out here,” he greets, then hands Duck a thermos out of a satchel he’s carrying. He takes it, a little surprised, and when he pops it open, the familiar smell of French Onion soup wafts out.

“Sorry about all this, dragging you away from whatever plans you had,” Barclay apologizes, and at Duck’s raised eyebrow, he explains, “I’m the one who made her call you.”

“It was the right thing to do,” Duck reassures as he pours some soup into the thermos lid and takes a cautious sip. He has to bite back a moan it tastes so good. He swallows and continues, “And I didn’t really have plans to speak of anyway.” He takes another sip, still just as good.

“You like it?” Barclay asks and Duck opens his eyes—when did he even close them?—to find Barclay focusing on him with a strange intensity.

“It’s _really_ good,” Duck confirms, then punctuates that statement with another sip. He can feel some of the tension he’d been carrying all day—all week even—drain out from his shoulders.

Barclay nods and steps closer, just a little _too_ close, and it clicks for Duck what that look he’s giving him means. He doesn’t try and hide his sigh of pleasure after the next sip and sure enough, Barclay’s eyes darken. “Did you bring me soup to seduce me?” Duck asks.

“Well… secondary purposes, really,” Barclay replies, and then his mouth is a little too busy to speak as he’s kissing Duck thoroughly. Duck has to keep his hands where they are since he’s still holding an open thermos, but he kisses back with as much intensity as he can. When Barclay breaks away, Duck is quick to put the lid back on the thermos, then toss it through the open car window into the front seat. Once he has his hands free again, he grabs hold of Barclay’s usual plaid shirt and pulls him back in.

“I want to…” Duck drops to his knees, and Barclay undos his pants, so that Duck can get at his hardening cock. It’s a good cock as far as Duck is concerned, and he wastes no time taking the head into his mouth. Barclay groans as Duck takes him in a little farther and Duck hums, pleased with himself. Duck really enjoys this, sucking someone off, and he hadn’t gotten the chance with his previous encounters today.

While Duck is sucking him, Barclay twists one hand through his hair, tugging lightly. His other hand traces across Duck’s cheek and he can feel Barclay’s bracelet. It makes Duck wonder about his _other_ form, and Duck is secure enough in himself to admit that he’s a bit of a size queen. The thought of the presumably proportional sized cock—even Barclay’s human form certainly isn’t small—makes him moan around his current mouthful. He pulls back, intent on asking since this might well be a once in a lifetime kind of experience.

“Have you ever…” he starts, trying to find a way to phrase it that doesn’t make him sound like a degenerate, but he can’t so he just catches Barclay’s worst in one hand and tugs lightly on the bracelet, “...without this?”

Barclay’s quiet for a moment, enough time that Duck has one clear moment of panic that maybe he shouldn’t have asked, but then he’s pulling Duck back up to his feet and pushing him against the car. He presses a leg between Duck’s own, and Duck groans and bucks against the pressure. “I have,” Barclay says low in his throat in a faux growl that makes Duck shiver. “You wanna try?”

“That depends,” Duck manages to say, breathy but amused, “is it true what they say about guys with big feet?”

Barclay drops his head and laughs against Duck’s neck. “Only one way to find out,” he says, and then he tugs off the bracelet.

 

 _“Jesus,”_ Duck breathes. He’s not a small man by any means, but Barclay is towering over him. His fingers, now cupping Duck’s face, are huge things that Duck can’t wait to get inside of him. Speaking of which… Duck glances down and inhales sharply. His assumption about proportional sizes was correct. Barclay’s cock is massive and hard, pressing against Duck’s front and making his mouth water.

Duck gets this second of admiration before Barclay is crowding him against the Jeep. He takes both of Duck’s wrists in one hand, then puts his head against Duck’s neck. Duck has the instinctive feeling of being prey before a large predator but instead of frightened, it just makes him even harder.

"I can smell them on you,” Barclay says low and presses one large finger onto a bruise forming on Duck’s neck. Duck groans and thrusts, trying to get pressure but is ineffective under Barclay’s strong hold. “Maybe it’s a good thing, you’ll already be loose when I take you.” Duck shudders and twists his head, the only part of him that has effective movement and sloppily kisses at Barclay’s fingers. “I never would’ve pegged you for such a slut, Duck.”

“Let me--Just let me--” Duck begs.

When Barclay releases him, Duck goes to his knees again, almost on autopilot. He was never good at deepthroating before and he’s certainly not going to try now, not with literally the biggest dick he’s ever seen, but he feels compelled to get his mouth on it some way. Barclay groans, lower now, more primal, really like a _growl_ this time, and his hand comes up to cover and press lightly against the back of Duck’s head. It goes straight to Duck’s own cock, and he moans as he continues to lavish attention on Barclay.

Duck could probably spend all night on his knees like this, but that’s not what he really wants. He stands, despite Barclay’s low protest and practically begs, “ _Please_ tell me you brought something.” Barclay uses one his large hands to press against the front of Duck’s pants which in turn makes him collapse back against the jeep with a groan, while he grabs his discarded satchel with the other.

A moment later, he triumphantly pulls out a bottle of lube, and Duck laughs breathily, “Pretty confident on you seduction plan, huh?”

Barclay just presses harder on his dick so he’s cut off with a moan. “I don’t have condoms is you really want to do it like this,” Barclay says—and this form’s voice is lower and rougher and Duck is _very_ into it—”but I don’t have anything contagious.”

Duck takes a second to catch his breath before he nods and says, “Neither do I. Let’s do this.”

Positioning is a little tricky: on all fours on the ground is discarded (Duck’s not a particular fan of fucking on pine needles or getting splinters) as is against a tree and over a stump for similar reasons. Finally though, they decide on the Jeep as the most convenient and comfortable. Duck winds up standing on the running board, bent over into the backseat, with Barclay behind him.

Duck buries his head in his arms while Barclay opens him up, his fingers are so big and long and he could probably cum just from this. Barclay is careful and surprisingly—for his appearance but not really for his character—gentle, clearly he doesn’t want to hurt him. But Duck is practically sobbing, hole stretched as wide as he thinks it can even go and dripping with lube and so hard it _hurts_ , before Barclay enters him.

He isn’t rough, even when fucking him, but at this point it doesn’t matter at all to Duck who’s just trying to hold on as Barclay’s massive cock slowly fills him up. Finally, he’s in fully, and it doesn't matter the angle because it’d actually be impossible for prostate to _not_ be touched. It’s verging on the edge of uncomfortable, but Duck is still hard and steadily leaking precum, probably ruining the Jeep’s seat under him. Then Barclay moves, pulls back out a little then shoves in, and Duck cries out and shoves back.

He cums in what might be considered an embarrassingly short amount of time—if Duck even had a threshold for embarrassment anymore after being rawed in the woods by Bigfoot—without being touched. He’s not sure when he _stops_ cumming because Barclay is still moving inside hi  impossibly big, and Duck is still so hard, and the whole thing is so _good_ . He just moves with Barclay and keeps up a broken stream of encouragement and praise and noises that are wrenched out of his very being as he taken so deep he can practically feel it in his _throat._

Barclay pulls out before he cums which Duck is grateful for since that’s one mess he doesn’t want to deal with later, though in the moment the loss makes Duck whine and press back for more. Instead, Duck supposes he must finish on the ground because he makes a sound, kind of like a roar that would probably scare the shit out of him in any other situation, and then falls on top of Duck, like a giant, furry blanket.

They lay like that panting together in the now silent air, and then Barclay gives a full body shiver and he’s back in his human form. Duck shivers too. Now that his Bigfoot form isn’t covering him, he can feel the cooler forest air on his bare skin. Barclay notices and stands up, helping Duck up as well so he can get at least marginally cleaned up.

“I’m going to be feeling that for a _week_ ,” Duck says, his voice rough and scratchy from the encounter, and because Barclay looks like he’s about to apologize, he cuts him off, “ _Definitely_ in a good way.”

They wind up sitting on the Jeep’s fender, sharing the canister of soup—which is nice on his sore throat—till Duck feels enough like a human again that he might be able to drive.

 

* * *

 

Duck comes home, exhausted from his long and eventful day, and just about ready to fall face first into bed and pass out. That plan is immediately ruined by Beacon, who, as soon as Duck steps into the kitchen, says smugly, “It appears you heeded my advice, Duck Newton.”

Duck can feel his face flush. He doesn’t know how Beacon can tell but internally he kicks himself for having left Beacon out that morning. Outwardly, he sighs and says, “Beacon, I’m really not in the mood for this.”

But before Duck can leave the room, Beacon speaks up, voice tinged low, “Duck Newton, have you completely forgotten our time together before you so rudely locked me away?”

Duck freezes because _yeah he does_ —he was 18 and a little drunk and a lot stupid and it turns out Beacon has a remarkably talented tongue when he’s not insulting Duck’s entire existence—and Beacon takes the pause to say, “Come on, Duck Newton, you know you w ant to.” And _goddamn fuck_ , but Duck’s already half hard just thinking about it.

Duck clenches his jaw and considers his options: ignore Beacon and head to bed, dealing with this new hard on himself, or take Beacon up on his offer. And really, it’s no choice at all. He turns back to the table and grabs Beacon. He doesn’t say anything else, but on the walk to the bedroom, he gives off a certain smug air that has Duck half considering just throwing him back into a closet.

But he doesn’t.

It’s awkward as hell as Duck undresses, but Beacon is naturally bossy and Duck’s good at taking orders, so it works out. “Lay down Duck Newton,” Beacon says—and Duck is glad he doesn’t use this particular tone of voice often because even though it’s better than his usual style, Duck would be half hard all the time—and Duck follows, stretching out on his cool sheets. “Now pick me up, there, by the cross guard.” Duck takes both ends and holds him in the air for a brief moment till Beacon says, “Now fuck my mouth, Duck Newton.” Then he lowers Beacon down over his cock.

He gasps at the first feeling of Beacon’s tongue and after that he’s just a stream of broken sounds and noises as he bucks and moves under Beacon—both of them being careful to keep the blade far away from his body. He gets his heels under him to better thrust upwards into the slick wet heat and uses the cross guard to match his movements. Beacon, for his part, lets himself be fucked and when Duck gets his rhythm, sets in on his own, lips and tongue and the occasional graze of teeth that has Duck biting his lips to keep from shouting. When Beacon starts humming is when Duck really loses it, holding Beacon still as he spills into his mouth, and he, impossibly, swallows every bit.

Finally he pulls Beacon off his sensitized cock and collapses back on the bed, flushed and panting. Beacon chooses this moment, when he’s the most soft and pliable, to speak up again, “You know what else we could do, Duck Newton?”

“What?”

“Oh so you _have_ forgotten, then,” Beacon says. “I’d thought it would’ve been a memorable occasion, the first time you took me up your ass, Duck Newton.”

“Oh,” Duck says, a little dazed, “ _that_.”

“Yes, _that_ ,” Beacon agrees, then he drops his voice into a murmur. “You _do_ remember that, Duck Newton? Prepping yourself till you were begging for it? My ridges inside of you and my mouth around you?”

Duck is slightly ashamed of how just talking about it makes him half hard again _already_. Even more so that he can’t form a full coherent sentence, just a strangled acknowledgement.

“Go on then, get the lube,” Beacon orders and Duck fumbles around in his bedside table for a moment before pulling out a bottle. “And I’m sure you know what to do now.” Duck does and he works himself open as Beacon urges him on. He’s still sore from the other cocks he’s taken today but that edge of pain just elevates his pleasure.

“I’m ready,” Duck gasps and Beacon hums in approval.

“Get me slippery Duck Newton.”

Duck groans. “That’s _not_ a phrase I ever want to hear again.”

“Then keep me busy,” Beacon counters, and Duck takes the challenges. He squeezes out a generous amount of lube and begins working it over Beacon’s hilt, then carefully slides it into his ass.

He moans as the interesting shapes of the sword—twists and ridges unlike any dildo he’s ever tried—drags at his insides, and he has to pause, a panting, sweaty mess when the pommel presses right against his prostate, less he come right then and there. Breath collected, he begins truly fucking himself, slowly at first then in earnest, letting out broken moans when he brushes his prostate, on every second or so thrust.

That might be enough, but then Beacon’s tongue comes into play again. His mouth resides slightly above the cross guard, and when Duck bottoms out, he’s close enough to reach the stretched out rim of Duck’s hole. Duck switches his rhythm, twisting Beacon around while he fucks him in and out so no one part of his hole goes untended. But even this devolves till Duck has got the hilt pressed firmly against his prostate thrusting hard against the air and Beacon licking fervently at his perineum. He comes like that, untouched and hypersensitive.

 

For not actually having much of a face, Beacon manages to exude extreme smugness while Duck cleans him off. Duck might have something to say about that but right now he’s too tired and finally satisfied to care much.

“Good night, Duck Newton,” Beacon calls, and Duck pauses before turning off the kitchen light.

“Night, Beacon.”

 

After Duck takes a thorough shower, he collapses back onto his bed, exhausted and sore, but in a _very_ good mood.


End file.
